


Returned Equipment

by IrishWitch58



Series: Classified Kitten [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M, Random kitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 18:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16522199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishWitch58/pseuds/IrishWitch58
Summary: 007 is known for damaging or misplacing equipment. This time he turns in more than he inventoried out.





	Returned Equipment

**Author's Note:**

> Because people seemed to like the idea, I have once more committed a small fic where people are happy.

“Trent, whatever has gotten into you?” Hanson was shift supervisor and had little patience with nervous newcomers. If you got into MI6 at all, you should be able to handle a bit of pressure. Trent had seemed very competent and efficient but he had a decided tendency to startle when field agents came on the floor. True, 002 had intimated that she might apply her stiletto heel to the next person to ask her for an expense report but poor Trent was apparently apprehensive of the Boss as well. To be fair, all the Q branch employees were a bit in awe of the Boss. But Trent was, frankly, excessive. 

At the moment, 007 was standing at the lift door, surveying the department. His overcoat  
was dusted with melting snow and he appeared to be trying to conceal something in it. Trent was still attempting to hide behind his entirely inadequate for the purpose monitor. Hanson gave an exaggerated sigh and crossed the room. “May I help you, 007?”

“I was looking for Q as it happens. Is he in?” The agent who faced death on the regular seemed tense. That did not bode well at all. Hanson glanced around once. The bunker was quite secure but terrorists were getting more and more ingenious.

“Yes, he is. Working through the budget.” Hanson gave a rueful smile. “I’m afraid he doesn’t care much for that chore.”

Bond gave a decisive nod and headed for the corner where tea and coffee were available. He brewed up a cup of Q’s favorite and pulled a packet of biscuits out of an inside pocket, with some apparent difficulty, and brought both to the office door.

Hanson returned to his own desk, wondering if the soundproofing would be inadequate yet again. The Quartermaster and 007 had some rousing discussions if Q’s raised voice was any indicator. 

Bond eased the door open and nudged it shut with a hip, depositing the tea and biscuits on the corner of the desk. Q raised his head from the budget breakdown. “While I am grateful for the concern indicated by the offering, it does beg the question. Is it is an apology for something?” He took a sip of the very excellent tea and nibbled a biscuit. “I don’t think I have seen your returned equipment yet.” He raised his eyebrow and took another satisfying sip of his tea.

Bond reached his left hand awkwardly into his overcoat and hauled out the Walther, several full and partially full magazines and an earpiece. He grinned triumphantly. “All there except minor depletion of ammunition.”

If anything, Q’s eyebrow climbed higher. “What are you up to, James? There’s something going on. You never bring everything back. You know it and I despair of it. So what are you trying to hide in your coat?” Q had risen from his chair and circled to sit on the edge of his desk, inches away from Bond and watching him narrowly. The man who made Britain’s enemies wet their trousers squirmed in his chair with a definitely guilty look and a very unexpected sound emanated from his coat pocket. 

Q stared as Bond drew his right hand out of the pocket, a black and white kitten meowing ferociously and scrabbling tiny legs in the air. “I, ah, thought you might know what to do.” Bond offered in a very conciliatory voice. 

“You brought me a kitten?” Q studied the man in front of him, trying very hard to keep the little animal contained and getting perforated by needle sharp claws in the process. “You can’t bring your equipment back 95% of the time but you bring me a random kitten?”

“Well it is snowing out and she seemed lost and I didn’t want to just leave her…” Q took pity and picked up the kitten. He brushed the fur on it’s back and belly backwards, examining the skin. He looked at the eyes and teeth and finally tucked the fuzzy animal in the top of his cardigan. 

“She, actually a he, does not appear to have fleas, for a miracle, and seems to be about 6 or 7 weeks old. What exactly am I to do with a kitten?” Q was stroking the little one’s head with a forefinger as he spoke.

“Well you have cats. I thought you’d know what to do with her...him.” Having delivered the foundling, Bond appeared to have no idea what was to be done next. 

“I have two adult cats. Who may or may not favor a newcomer. Kittens require a great deal of attention in addition to a variety of innoculations and health checks.” Throughout, Q kept stroking the tiny black and white head just peeping over the collar of his cardigan. 

Bond seemed to sense some weakening of resistance and took quick advantage. “He is quite small and adaptable and seems to like you.” The kitten’s eyes were closed and it offered no more than a token chirp as he was deposited on the office chair. 

“And are you going to make it all worth my while, 007?” Q drew a forefinger down the length of the cashmere scarf Bond wore under the coat. 

“I’m certain we can come to an understanding, Quartermaster.” He pointedly reached around Q to punch the button that locked the office door.

 

“What do you suppose happened now?” Trent’s whispered question was almost lost under the noise from the office. There was a arrhythmic thumping and an occasional shout of “Bond!” and once “James!” and what Hanson insisted could not be expletives. 

“Best not ask too many questions, Trent.” Hanson drank the last of his coffee and gestured to the door. “The Boss has all the 00’s in line. And that one more than most." 

At that moment, the door opened and Bond exited, pulling his overcoat back on and a smile on his face. Q appeared behind him leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. He called after the agent “And don’t forget that list. I expect everything to be at the guard station in an hour.” Bond waved a piece of paper and gestured with a mock salute as he punched the lift button. 

“See, Trent. The Boss is making sure he gets missing equipment back. I’m betting there are things on that list we’ve already written off.”

Trent shook his head morosely. “That just means more time updating the inventory.”

“Cheer up, Trent. Look at the Boss. He just gave 007 a dressing down and he’s smiling. Makes our day a little easier.” Hanson ambled off to get more coffee and left Trent studying the Boss. Hadn’t he had a tie on earlier? He shook his head. Never a good idea to get too concerned with the matters of those higher up.


End file.
